Waking up with a pounding headache and in chains caused Tony a dreadful sense of déjà-vu. Months of practice helped him to keep his breath steady so he didn't seem awake yet. Even f he couldn't open his eyes he tried to find out as much as possible about the situation he was in. What greeted him was an unnerving silence. The only sound was his own breathing echoing from the walls of whatever room he was in. He was laying on his side on some cold, uneven stone floor, wrists and ankles cuffed. Great. Just great.
After one or two minutes that didn't indicate anybody else's presence in the room, he cautiously opened his eyes. He immediately felt like closing them again. Do it again, maybe you'll come out somewhere else. Worth a try.
Needless to say, it didn't work.
Keeping himself from cursing, the inventor shifted into an halfway upright position and glared at his surroundings as if that would change anything. A cave. A small one at that. What was the deal with villains and caves?
The room was about three steps long and wide, its ceiling high enough to stand without problems, even for somebody of Thor's size, but it still gave Tony a distinct feeling of claustrophobia. Still, he managed to keep his breathing remotely stable. Panicking didn't help anyone. There was an exit from the small room, furs hanging in front of it.
Swallowing, his stomach revolting with anxiety (but he was silently proud of himself because he had woken up in chains, in a cave, with no idea where and why he was here, and still didn't have a panic attack), he crawled over to the doorway on his hands and knees. The clinking of the chains felt horribly loud in the almost deafening silence, but there was nothing he could do about that. With an only slightly shaking hand he reached up and slowly pulled one of the furs aside. The dim light that had allowed him to see something in the small room he'd woken up in became stronger, and with it came...
...noise.
With a start, Tony flinched backwards. As soon as the fur dropped back into its place, everything was silent again. But for a moment, there had been noise. Alright, maybe noise was a harsh way to put it, but he had heard voices talking quietly, the rustle of clothing, the crackling of a fire. Normal everyday sounds.
Cautiously, he pulled the fur to the side once more and there it was again, sound. There was no way that just this thing blocked out all the noise from outside. That was ridiculous, after aliens and space ships he came to magical sound-dampening fur covers... wait. Magical. He stifled a groan. Yep, he'd made up his mind. He fucking hated magic. Because magic was the only reasonable explanation to this, wasn't it?
No, it's not, his mind snapped at him. Magic is not fucking reasonable. Yeah, whatever. It was the only explanation, even if it wasn't reasonable.
With his curiosity spiked, he opened and closed the gap in the fur covering several times more. Closing it was like closing a sound-proof door, together with the light (he was sure it was firelight, judging from its flickering quality) it locked out every sound.
As he opened it for about the seventh time, a silky, female voice came through together with the reddish light: "Aren't you going to come out?" Startled, he dropped the fur back in place and pulled his hands back against his chest, sitting up on his heels. Then it struck him how ridiculous that had to look – him sitting in front of the entrance, opening and closing it over and over again like a small child might play with a music box. And whoever was in there had noticed. Great.
Well. If he was going to get out there, it was definitely not going to be on his hands and knees. With a little bit of awkward scrambling because of the short chains, he stood up and had to fight a wave of nausea right after. Concussed, probably. Just really damn peachy, that. Whoever that woman out there was, he was pretty sure he didn't like her. But he wasn't going to hide in here (pointless, really, since she had obviously put him in this situation in the first place), so he could just as well get this over with.
As confident as he could manage, he brushed the furs aside and stepped through the narrow doorway, then remembered the shackles around his ankles and almost stumbled. So much for a dignified entrance. He made up for it with a glare as vicious as he could muster. He faltered in his steps as he took in the second, larger cave; there was a fire near to one wall, some people (to him, they looked like Asians, just with longer hair and, in some cases, beards, than you usually saw) were leaning against the stone next to it, chattering quietly among themselves, and right opposite from him was a large, golden lounge sofa with red, silky-looking cushions. It was ridiculously misplaced in the plain stone cave, almost to the point of making Tony actually laugh, just as the blonde woman sprawled out on top of it. Her hair fell down her shoulders in golden curls and she wore a white dress that practically flowed down her body, hugging every curve and bringing out her pale skin and blue eyes.
"So you are Loki's new toy, aren't you now", she drawled. If her looks had brought her the slightest benefit in Tony's judgement of her (come on, he was only a man after all), it was gone now.
"No idea what you're talking about", he responded and just barely refrained from crossing his arms because that wouldn't go too well with the cuffs.
"Oh, dear", she exclaimed theatrically, turning to the men in the cave, "did you hit his head too hard?"
"Ha-ha-ha", the inventor uttered sarcastically. "My goodness, you're so funny. I can't hold myself. Hilarous. Ever thought about – ow!" He had gotten a slap to the back of his head from one of the men that didn't do anything good for his concussion-induced headache. In fact, it made him stumble several steps forward and he only just stifled a pained groan. The sound somehow got converted into: "Oh, I see. You're one of the really charming kind. What a pleasure to make your aquaintance."
"I can see why Loki likes you", the woman stated coldly. There was a disdainful pull around her mouth while she looked him up and down.
"What, you hit him over the head with a brick, too?", Tony quipped. "There are other ways to meet people, you know? For one, you can talk to them. Introduce yourself, which usually starts with Hello and not with Lemme just knock you out and shackle you because that makes my socially awkward side feel so much better. I'm sure there are books about the subject, maybe –"
"Norns, could someone please gag him?", she groaned.
"Funny", Tony mused while backing away from a pale-skinned guy approaching him. "People seem to enjoy that. I wonder why?"
"Strange, isn't it", his captor said with a deadpan expression.
"Yeah. I don't get it either", the engineer continued, pretending he hadn't noticed the irony and looking for an escape route that was not blocked by these... whatever they were. Unsurprisingly, there wasn't one. "Why would people want to deprive themselves of my beautiful voice? I mean, it's such a shame to waste – oh no, don't you dare, that's not going into my mouth, you little – umph!" One of the men fastened the improvised gag (just a bundle of fabric) with a knot at the back of Tony's head while another one held him in place with what was definitely more than normal human strength. Well, they weren't human, obviously.
With all hatred and defiance he could muster, Tony stared at the still nameless woman on her misplaced diva-lounge-sofa-thing. He hated being gagged. He'd gotten almost used to being pushed and ordered around by beings stronger than him, but he could always talk back, insult somebody, make inadequate jokes and annoy the people around him. Restraining his voice was like stripping him of his last weapon. He muttered something through the fabric that hopefully sounded like "bitch".
She just smirked. Message obviously not received. Instead of somehow reacting to that, she made a graceful little movement with her hand and Tony was pushed down onto his knees. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his head hurt enough as it was already. Oh, and then she started talking.
"I strongly assume that you know who I am." He raised an eyebrow and shook his head, trying to look mocking instead of as clueless as he actually was. "What, has Loki told you nothing?", she asked with an expression of fake shock on her face. The inventor had at least remarks on the tip of his tongue about how Loki seemed to find horse stables more interesting than her, but maybe it was good that he was gagged, after all. "My name is Frejya", she continued, "and I am known as the goddess of love and marriage." Sweet. "Now, you surely wonder why you are here." And this looked like some really stereotypical villainous speech incoming. Great.
There was one major problem with being gagged though: Tony had no way to distract himself from the distinct feeling of panic building in his chest. Usually, he just talked so much that he didn't have to think in between sentences, but that wasn't going to work now, obviously. He was here with a stranger who had deemed it fit to knock him unconscious to get hold of him and an apparent aversion against Loki. Speaking of which, he had no idea where Loki was, either, and the last time he had seen the guy, he had been in the middle of getting shot at, which... nah. Not too well.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to listen to Freyja. Maybe she would give him some information to work with.
"... and he had the insolence to humiliate me in front of the whole hall", she said, her voice tense with anger. Oh, he had apparently missed something there. "So you might be able to guess what I have you here for." This time, he didn't even bother with not looking clueless and the goddess rolled her eyes. "Look", and that was definitely exasperation in her voice, "since Loki is obviously so fond of you", wait, what?, "you will be the payment for what he did to me."
Wait.
What?!
Tony felt his eyes widen and tried to take a deep breath, but the building panic constricted his chest and made it impossible to get the oxygen he needed. This was some sort of really, really weird joke, wasn't it? How the hell had he managed to get involved in alien god rivalries in the worst way possible? What the hell had Loki done to her that she was so hell-bent on revenge? This was wrong, this was all wrong, he wasn't supposed to be here, he should be on a couch in Malibu with a glass of scotch, annoying Pepper with his carelessness and not sitting in a cave and doing... this. Being involved in this in any way. Even knowing about this was more than he wanted.
He stared at the cuffs without really seeing them and pretended that they didn't shake. Maybe it sounded childish, but everything Tony wanted was to go home. Was that really too much to ask for? He didn't want to be here, it was so wrong in so many levels... He didn't want to be a part of this. Not that anybody would care to ask him about that.
The hands of the man holding him down were still on his shoulders, but they didn't hold him down anymore. In an act of sheer defiance, he jumped to his feet and bolted towards the exit (or what he hoped was the exit, anyway). There were two things stopping him: Firstly, the chains around his ankles that didn't allow more than small steps and almost made him stumble right away, and even if that wouldn't have sufficed, somebody tripped him while another one tried to yank him backwards by his tunic. Both of the actions combined caused him to fall sidewards so his temple collided with the stone floor with an audible thud.
The impact on his already aching head caused another surge of pain and Tony felt bile rise in his throat. He cringed, pressing his hands to the gag and fighting the waves of nausea because he would very much like not to choke on his own vomit, thank you very much. He barely managed not to throw up, and as he was hauled backwards into a sitting position, the whole world spun around him in a way that was absolutely not enjoyable. He had to swallow several times and squeezed his eyes shut firmly, trying to curl in on himself while staying in a sitting position. Somewhere in the background he heard Freyja utter some mocking words, but it wasn't hard to ignore them over the pounding in his ears. There was the warm sensation of blood trickling down his skin and Tony tried desperately not to think about it because it made him feel sick all the more.
The sound of a sharp clap of hands made him open his eyes and look up at Freyja who had a delighted look on her face as she announced: "He is here!"
Tony turned his head – slowly, because everything else hurt – towards the entrance he had just tried to run out of. Before he could see anything (or anybody) though, his head was yanked back by his hair (which fucking hurt, because it felt like his brain was bumping off the walls of his skull) and the cold blade of a knife was pressed to his throat. Great. Just really fucking great.
While the inventor still tried to get the world to stop its continuous spinning around him, a dark figure appeared in the edge of his vision. After blinking a few times, he recognized it as Loki and exhaled shakily. Loki being there was a good sign, wasn't it?
"Freyja", the mage said, his voice strained like he was speaking through gritted teeth. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Oh, no formalities?", the woman asked back, sounding fake and honey-sweet. "Aren't you going to ask my how I feel? What my dress cost? How I got my hair done? You are so good at these court's games after all."
"This does not look like a game you planned well", Loki stated with a coldness in his voice that made Tony feel a sudden surge of relief about the fact that he was not the one wearing the white dress and golden curls in here. Loki sounded like he was going to murder someone very, very soon.
"Doesn't it now", came Freyja's reply. "Then pray tell, what do you think is my mistake? I have you where I want you to be, I have a bargaining chip, and I have men. What else would I need?"
"A bargaining chip", the god repeated. "You took him as a bargaining chip? Really? He is a slave. If I want one of those, I can always go out and get a new one." Tony winced. That comment was... surprisingly hurtful. But well, that seemed to be what he was lately. An object to trade with or to throw away if it wasn't useful. But Loki... Loki had seemed different. He hadn't actually acted like Tony was a slave, he had been the first in a long time to treat him like a person. Apparently, that didn't mean anything.
"Oh", Freyja said slowly. "You seemed so fond of him. But well, if that is not the case... why don't we dispose of him?" Fuck, no, that was not how he had planned to die! (Not like he had planned it, but whatever.) Tony gasped as the blade broke his skin, trying to squirm backwards but only meeting the broad chest of one of the soldiers. This wasn't happening, this...
"Stop!", Loki interjected, taking a step forward. "Fine. What do you want, Freyja?" Tony felt himself relax (slightly, but at least his muscles didn't feel like they were going to snap in half anytime soon) as the hold on him was loosened slightly and the blade was drawn away from the burning line on his skin.
"What do I want?", the goddess repeated, every trace of fake sweetness and humour gone from her voice as she stood up from her diva-sofa. "What do I want?" She approached Loki and raised a hand as if she was about to jab him in the chest with a finger, but the prince backed away just enough to avoid her. "You know exactly what I want, Odinson", she snapped. "After you spread your lies among the whole court..."
"My lies?", Loki interrupted, sounding almost amused. "What lies? I have no idea what you could mean."
"You humiliated me in front of all the –"
"Freyja, dear", the god sneered. "If you decide that it is the right course of action to sleep with all the gods there are – including your twin brother – then you should be ready to bear the consequences."
Freyja went white with anger. "Should you say a wrong word about Freyr again, I am going to end you", she threatened. "I want you to bear the consequences of your doings, of –"
"You killed my son!", Loki almost shouted, advancing on Freyja with a look that said he was ready to strangle her with his bare hands. "You killed one of my sons, and you cursed the other. You had me burned by snake venom for years. What more do you want, you malicious hag?!" The goddess, who had backed away during Loki's outburst, swallowed and replied steadily: "I want my personal revenge. I want you to admit you were wrong and that not only to me, but to the whole court of both Asgard and Vanaheim. I want you to feel just the way I did when I stood in front of the court with such accusations wrought upon me, and that as the goddess of marriage. You are going to suffer just the way I did." Her words dripped with venom and loathing that had apparently had time to brew for quite some years.
Loki was about to reply as he glanced at Tony who had followed the quick tosses and turns that the conversation between the two deities had taken from his position on the floor. He held the inventor's eyes for several seconds, seemingly biting back a retort he had at the ready, and then turned towards Freyja again, holding his hands out, ready to be shackled.
What the fuck are you doing?! Tony tried to glare accusingly enough to transmit his thoughts even through the gag. Come on, I'm not a thousand years old and I know that the bad guys never let their hostages go after a thing like this, you're getting us both into trouble, you idiot!
Loki gazed at him as if he was reading his thoughts, opening his mouth. Yes, come on, give her hell!, Tony encouraged mentally. "Fine", the prince said. An almost disbelieving grin appeared on the goddess' features at the same time that Tony let out an indistinct sound of protest through the muzzle. Loki ignored it and continued: "You wanted to know what your mistake was."
"Oh, yes, do tell me", she responded with a dismissive wave while one of the men stepped up with heavy, black handcuffs to bind the other god.
"Firstly, you underestimated me", Loki stated lightly and Freyja laughed with a pointed look at his outstretched wrists as she retorted: "Yes, I see how much I underestimated you." The prince didn't seem fazed by her answer as he continued: "Secondly, and that is an even more fatal mistake, you touched what is mine."
From then on, things happened fast. In the moment where the shackles touched Loki, he dissolved into a blur of golden light. In the same second, something warm and sticky was splattered all over Tony's back and his hair. Ew. Loki's voice whispered into his ear: "Anthony, close your eyes." Tony tried to turn his head, but there were hands on his shoulders again, this time gentle and soothing. "Trust me. Close them." Hesitatingly, he complied, and soon the pressure was gone and there were sounds around him, sounds of bodies hitting the floor and other, more unpleasant things. He tried to tune them out as good as possible; it didn't really work.
Less than two minutes later, Loki's hands were back on his shoulders, this time from his front, and he was carefully pulled forward against the god's chest. He felt Loki's fingers undo the knots at the back of his head and shortly after, he was able to spit the fabric out and breathe in and out deeply through his mouth, slumped forward and let Loki hold him close. Exhaustion and the terrible headache caused him to shake, also there was something running down his back and blood crusting his hair, his own as well as that of the guy who had held him and whom Loki had... apparently killed before he could slit Tony's throat. Which was good, of course. The realization of how close he had been to death was even more terrifying and he was glad that Loki didn't see his face right now.
"I am sorry", the god breathed into his ear while Tony still tried to control his breathing. He couldn't just panic right now, they were in a cave that was, judging by the sounds before, full of corpses and he was covered in other people's blood and had a concussion and had Loki just apologized to him?
"Why?", he asked, muffled through the leather in front of his face.
"You should not have been pulled into this sort of thing. I should have watched out for you. I am sorry", the prince repeated quietly, clutching Tony to his chest like he awaited that someone would try to steal him in the next few seconds. It was a little awkward because the engineer's hands were still cuffed in front of him and got sort of stuck between their bodies, also the blood on his back started to cool and made him shudder even stronger, but he didn't want to move right now. Right now, he felt – even if it was only a pleasant illusion – safe. Loki could've just gone home, but he had come back for him. It felt Tony with an odd sense of contentment.
But of course, Loki pulled back after a while so he could look at Tony. With a small, reassuring smile, he offered: "Come now, let us get out of here." Tony just nodded and held his hands up, making the chains clink together. The god pulled out a small key (don't think about where he got that, don't think about where he got that...) and unlocked the cuffs with it (no ripping apart this time), as well as the ones around Tony's feet. Then, he stood up and offered the inventor a hand, pulling him up, which caused another wave of nausea in his gut.
"Out of here sounds good", he groaned, swaying on his feet and leaning heavily on Loki. "But no fucking teleporting this time or I'm going to puke all over you."
The prince chuckled quietly and replied: "Well then. If I may assist you..." And with that, he scooped Tony up – very carefully as to not move him more rapidly than necessary – and carried him towards the exit. The inventor was honestly too exhausted to mind, but he made the mistake of looking at his surroundings. It caused him feel even sicker than before.
Everywhere lay the corpses of the men Freyja had had under her command. The causes of their deaths were almost invisible; small stab wounds in just the right places. Loki's accuracy was scary. The goddess herself was bound with the shackles she had wanted to chain Loki with and was apparently unconscious, but there was no blood on her whatsoever. He had draped her onto her ridiculous lounge sofa.
Noticing Tony's gaze, the prince said quietly: "I told you not to look." The inventor didn't reply to that. He wouldn't have known what to say.
When they stepped out of the cave, they were surrounded by trees and Loki glanced around in annoyance. Right, their golden teleporting beam thing picked up everything in its range. Maybe a bunch of trees wouldn't be so great, then.
Tony closed his eyes as the adrenalin started to ebb away while Loki walked through the forest, probably searching for a clearing or maybe the brim of the woods. He didn't want to be awake anymore, but he couldn't fall asleep either – for that, the throbbing pain in his head was far too strong. So all he could do was wait and not think about anything, because thinking hurt. As well as moving. He barely noticed how Loki stepped out into the sun with him and then leaned down a bit, announcing: "We will use the Bifröst now. Can you stand that?" The inventor could only mutter something affirmative in response, but it seemed to be enough for Loki because he turned his gaze upwards and calmly said: "Heimdall, open the Bifröst now." Just a second later, they were engulfed by golden light that shone even through Tony's eyelids. The feeling of the pull and being tossed around in space was even less pleasant than before, but Loki held him firmly and so, Tony just pressed a hand over his mouth and forced himself to swallow down the sour bile rising in his throat for the umpteenth time.
He managed to keep the contents of his stomach where they belonged, but just barely. He was glad when he felt gravity again and breathed in shallowly. The god leaned down again and asked: "Do you think I can move us directly to your chambers? I would rather not carry you through all of Asgard."
Loki's way of teleportation was a bit more unpleasant than the travelling through the Bifröst, Tony remembered, but also a lot faster than walking for an hour, which he was really not sure he could stand right now. "Yeah,'cause that'd look weird, huh", he muttered tiredly, still not opening his eyes. "Whatever, do it, but you can go directly to the bathroom. My breakfast doesn't like its place in my stomach, I think."
"As you wish", Loki replied, sounding more concerned than amused, and then the world became a nauseating swirl again and Tony immediately realized that his not quite serious request was a lot more serious when they arrived. He squirmed out of the mage's arms and opened his eyes to be greeted with two versions of his bathroom. Stumbling, he took a few steps forward and dropped to his knees in front of what he hoped was the toilet and not its hallucinated double, just in time for his breakfast to find a new home in wherever that stream of water led to. Distantly, he heard Loki's footsteps nearing from behind, and as he rested his head against the cool surface of the toilet, there where fingers on his temples. Originating from them was a pleasant coldness that chased away some of the nausea and eased the throbbing in his skull. Maybe magic wasn't all that horrible after all.
The prince looped an arm under Tony's and pulled him up to his feet with a quiet "Come on now" before leading him over to the sink. Gratefully, the inventor washed the sour taste out of his mouth as thoroughly as possible and washed the blood away that had trickled down from his temple to his chin and partly down his neck. While quietly assuring that he could take care of everything else later, Loki half supported, half carried him into the large bed. Tony felt his eyes fluttering close again already, so he was more than okay with that. Loki seated him on the edge of the bed and peeled off the bloodied tunic with only little help from the engineer's side, then actually pulled off Tony's boots (how many people could say that a prince did that for him?) and after that, he told the inventor to stop thinking out loud. It didn't really sound angry, though.
"Sleep now, Anthony", was the last thing Tony heard before he was completely out cold.